


Ambrosia

by Michie_the_artist



Series: RISE OF SKYWALKER FINNPOE FIX-IT FICS BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker (2019), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Stormpilot - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, M/M, Mild Smut, Neck Kissing, Poe Dameron/Finn Fluff, Spoilers, Star Wars Spoilers, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, Stormpilot, also important but, and then that one scene, heavily inspired by that, tells Patroclus, that one scene, what parts of his body he adores, where Achilles, where Achilles and Patroclus have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21881704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michie_the_artist/pseuds/Michie_the_artist
Summary: SPOILERSThere's a comfort to the vulnerability, the intimacy of exploring the lines and edges and curves, and they both openly invite the newness of the feeling. They hadn’t ever had the chance to relax and feel in this manner before. The excitement pulls them in, promising permanence and support. It’s addictive. They greedily take it all in.———Basically Finn and Poe being gay and in love and shit after the victory of the resistance. Based very very heavily upon The Song of Achilles because I’m in the middle of reading it right now and the sex scene was one of the best written things I’ve ever seen period. I digress but seriously go read Song of Achilles you’ll love it.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: RISE OF SKYWALKER FINNPOE FIX-IT FICS BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576342
Comments: 41
Kudos: 228





	Ambrosia

**Author's Note:**

> RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS 
> 
> ———
> 
> Thank you so much for clicking on this fic! The title kind of fits a little bit but honestly I just liked the ide a of having a fic named Ambrosia so yeah. I was inspired by the Song of Achilles, mostly because Pat and Achilles are very much like Finn and Poe in that they are gay and in love but so many people deny it because they’re dumb. In all seriousness I’m just a sucker for tender gay shit so I really tried to make this as soft and gay as possible. Hope you enjoy!

As the sun sets on the victory of the rebellion, the world settling into its newfound peace and freedom, people prepare themselves for the next day. They will rest, for the first time in a long while, but rise the next day knowing that everything has changed and there is still much more work to do to make sure it stays that way. Allies of the rebels settle back into the lives they had lived back at the very cusp of rebellion, before the First Order threatened their livelihood and before they decided to help defend it. Planets formerly enslaved by the First Order relish their newfound agency, savoring their clear skies no longer dotted with fighters. Families enjoy, for the first time in a long time, the privacy robbed of them once Stormtroopers had begun occupying their homes. Communities and civilizations consider the peace they had taken back and promise themselves they will live to make the lives lost worth it. 

The rebels, however, exercise their time differently. 

Because these rebels were the very heart of the resistance, the only force of opposition to the oppressive regime of the First Order, they had never had a chance to truly enjoy free time en masse the way they were now being afforded after their victory. The pressures of war may have subsided, but the habits that formed as a result linger on, permanent and stubborn like rust. In the latter half of their fight, they’d lost all of their true commanding officers- all of their admirals and colonels and generals- leaving the rest of the rebels to pick up the slack and take charge. There was no rest when you were doing the job of three people with more experience and qualification than you. 

Sleeping had been a regularly irregular part of rebel life, as people seldom slept, and when they did, it was on the off chance that they had absolutely nothing to do. Sure, that left a majority of people to rely on stimulating substances to keep them awake- caffeine and alcohol mostly- but it was better than the alternative- falling asleep and opening up a chance for attack and annihilation. 

Now that the fight is over, finding a regular sleep schedule is difficult. Some nights everyone falls asleep sporadically, while on others, the rebels turn in together, though it’s mostly accidental. The night of their victory is like this. 

They’d landed on this lush planet, green and warm and perfect, and decided to stay there for the night. People set up little canopies utilizing the wings of their planes, some laid down tarps and sleep beneath the canopy of the trees, twinkling stars in the sky above, deep and purple, peeking in between the spaces between the foliage. There is a collective feeling that floats throughout their makeshift camp, a feeling of warmth and softness and safety, enveloping every one of the rebels. It accompanies the slight breeze of the night air, light and delicate, tickling the noses of those sleeping in its midst. 

There are some, however, who aren’t sleeping with the rest of the rebels. 

Quite a ways away from the campsite, on a grassy hill by a river, lie the two acting-generals of the resistance, hand in hand, eyes fixated on one another instead of the shimmering stars in the firmament above. 

A silence floats in the air around them, and for awhile, they exist without words. Fingers trail feather-lightly across blushing skin, warm and soft to the touch. With purpose and intent, they trace the patterns of one another’s bodies; the curves of a palm, the angles of the arms, the soft roundness of a belly. Smooth and squishy thighs blossom beneath the trails drawn by curious fingers. There's a comfort to the vulnerability, the intimacy of exploring the lines and edges and curves, and they both openly invite the newness of the feeling. They hadn’t ever had the chance to relax and _feel_ in this manner before. The excitement pulls them in, promising permanence and support. It’s addictive. They greedily take it all in.

Poe lets his hands wander north of Finn’s waist, knuckles dragging across abs, the pads of his fingers connecting with the smooth skin of pectorals, strong and firm muscles pressing against dark and supple skin, shimmering as though flecked with gold under the light of the stars. His fingertips follow the lines of Finn’s neck to his jawline, a marvel of sharp angles and firm lines. He lets his palm slide across Finn’s jaw to cup his chin, his thumb hovers over his lips. 

Poe leans in and offers the barest kiss before taking his bottom lip between his teeth and gently biting down, tugging lightly. Finn moans in response, low and sweet, and pulls Poe closer to him until they’re legs are tangled, bodies pressed together. 

The contact is exhilarating. Both men are warm, a product of their steamy moment in private and the natural warmth of the planet. A breeze, cold and slippery, slips around their entwined bodies to dance across exposed skin and flip underneath loose clothing. The river babbles near their feet as water bubbles and laps against the bank, and it sounds almost as if the river is talking to them. They hear the babbling- the chortles and giggles- of the river, but their devotion is to one another, and they opt to ignore the river’s call. Finn’s hands make their way down Poe’s body as Poe begins trailing kisses from the corner of Finn’s lips to his neck, where they become more deep, more hungry. 

As things heat up, the pile of their belongings tossed aside on the grass near them quickly grows; they both are a little more exposed to the world. The sky above them, littered with stars, the woods behind them, full of their slumbering friends, even the silly river at their feet, all fell away, forgotten and unimportant as the two took each other in. Words themselves even slipped away, out of reach and out of mind, as the two invited a deep silence filled only by shaky breaths. 

Poe breaks the silence. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters as he moves in closer to take Finn into his hand, to press their bodies close. He lets his eyes travel the landscape of Finn’s body, dark and full and perfect. When Poe makes it to his face, he sees Finn’s face, a mixture of awe and admiration painted across his face. “What?” he whispers; he can’t help the smirk that plays on his lips. 

Finn’s tongue betrays him. There were so many things he’d wanted to say, so many thoughts he’d always kept concealed as he waited for the perfect moment. But, lying there, in such a vulnerable way, presented with that very chance, he messes up. His mind blanks, and all of the lovely things he’d wanted to say were gone.

Instead, he lets his eyes roam Poe’s body. “There’s so much about you that I just don’t know,” he whispers, heart aching racing as he traces the lines of Poe’s palms, fingers dancing across the skin, electricity runs through his fingertips with every touch. “And I have no clue how to learn it all.”

There is so much he wants to know, so many things he wants to experience. He wants to know every curve, every scar, memorize the map of Poe’s body. He wants to experience Poe’s pleasure and drink it in as often as Poe would let him, as though it were his own ambrosia, pure, delicate copper fit for his lips and his alone. Poe need only whisper the words- to offer the cup, brimming with the liquid, warm and shimmering salmon beneath the glare of the sun, raise it to his lips for him to drink- grant consent to open the sacred gift, and he would gladly, greedily indulge. 

Poe cocks his brow- his mounting interest evident on his features- and takes Finn’s hand in his own. “I promise...” he begins, low and soft, pausing to bring their hands to his lips. He presses chaste kisses to the flesh of his palm, his knuckles, the inside of his wrists. “... I’ll show you.” 

Poe guides Finn’s hands, a chorus of deep moans and breathless praises at the sensations springing from his throat. There is a prolonged moment of anticipation before the release, a buildup of pressure finally exploding out. It paints the world white. The two of them shudder but remain where they are; they’re in no hurry to gather their things or go back to camp. 

Instead, they lie there, foreheads pressed together, limbs tangled, clasping one another, pressed close as though they’ll be ripped apart at any moment. Finn falls asleep, the softness of his snores adding to the sounds of the night: the noisy river, the whistling breeze, their breathing, steady inhale-exhale and pants and gasps alike. Poe stares Finn with lidded eyes, feeling the drag of drowsiness pulling him towards sleep. With a final peck on the lips of the sleeping man before him, Poe himself falls into a slumber most peaceful, occupied by sweet dreams of his lover and the life they had before them in this new world of freedom and hope fulfilled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, you should check out the fic I wrote yesterday, part one of this series! 
> 
> I would appreciate it so much if you’d leave a comment telling me your favorite part of Rise of Skywalker or just saying hi! 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much! 
> 
> Keep reading, keep dreaming,  
> 🖤Michie


End file.
